


Miss me when I'm gone

by a beta perspective (Ejunkiet)



Series: The (Research) Internship [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College AU, Established... something, Gen, Human AU -- no Hale fire, M/M, Sciencey-AU, unabashed fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 17:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1866354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejunkiet/pseuds/a%20beta%20perspective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“Is this okay?”</em><br/><em>Everything about Derek looks soft, from his eyes to the sleepy tilt of his smile. “Of course.”</em><br/>--</p><p>(published first, and can stand alone.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss me when I'm gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ejunkiet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejunkiet/gifts).



> The happy(ish) college AU – where werewolves are relegated purely to the realm of myth and crappy B-movies, and Stiles and Derek are college flat mates, studying the biosciences at undergraduate and graduate levels respectively. 
> 
> This is sort of a dry-run for my Sterek Big Bang WIP, except this is a complete AU, where the big bang fic plays with canon ideas. (it's a riot so far, I can tell you that much)
> 
> This whole thing is incredibly self-indulgent, tooth-rotting fluff, _and I love it._
> 
> [When I'm Gone - Anna Kendrick](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmSbXsFE3l8)

Stiles is staring blankly at the dimmed screen of his laptop when Derek comes back from his late-night shift at 'Gimme a li’l Sugar', the University campus’ premier all-night cookie shack. He looks about as surprised to see Stiles as Stiles is to see him, and that’s when Stiles catches sight of the time. _Three am_. When had that happened?

"You're awake." He takes a few more steps into the room, slipping off his bag and emptying his pockets into the stand by the door, his brows creased down in a frown.  
  
Stiles jerks his arm up from where its fallen asleep on the desk, wiggling a couple fingers in a wave and jostling his mouse pad in the process. His laptop screen flares to life, shedding light on the disarray of his desk and the messy piles of unread papers. "Hey-lo. Good shift tonight?”

“Tolerable. I’ve got some more reading to do for the Print in Early Modern Italy seminar I’ve been roped into TA’ing tomorrow. I don’t know shit about the subject, but they are only first years and just need supervision and a mediator whilst they argue amongst themselves. Or so Erica _says_.”

“Good. Sounds good.”

“It really doesn’t.” Derek’s frown deepens as he shrugs out of his jacket. After he tosses it towards the sofa, he comes over to where Stiles is sitting, half-splayed, across his desk. “Something’s happened. What’s wrong?”

“What? It’s – nothing. Nothing’s wrong with me.” The expression on Derek’s face is skeptical as he turns his back to him, attaching the chain to the door and turning off the hall light. In two strides, he’s crossed the room, leaning over Stiles shoulder to peer at his laptop screen. Stiles quickly scrambles for the keyboard in attempt to lower the brightness, slapping Derek’s hands away until he can slip the screen shut. " _Nosy_. I told you it’s nothing, Derek."

"It's turning three, Stiles, and you're due in the lab at eight." He shifts closer, the concern growing on his features, which Stiles feels bad about. "If this is about the grant situation, I can increase the pressure on the department-"  
  
"No- no, really, Derek, it's fine. The lab gig is great - a god send, really - and I appreciate your part in it. Besides, my financial situation isn't _that bad_." He winces at his slip of the tongue, glancing back into Derek’s narrowed eyes - yeah, there’s no point in hoping he’d missed that.

“Anyway: with my savings, I have enough money to cover my rent, and buy groceries until September.” He bats at Derek’s arms where they’ve caged him against the desk until he finally takes a step back, giving Stiles the space he needs to turn in his chair and give him a smile. His situation may not be ideal, but he’s making it work. Derek really did not need to get into anymore shit with the Evo-Devo department because his recently-graduated friend had trouble getting paid actual money as an RA. "If worst comes to worst, I've been considering crowd sourcing."  
  
Derek’s expression shifts to one of reluctantly amusement, to Stiles relief, although he looks as if he is trying his best to mask it. It’s a shame, as he has a _fantastic_ smile.

“ _Crowd sourcing_.”

“Yeah, ‘fund an underpaid research assistant’, or ‘fund-it-yourself research’. They’d earn the right to name the lab’s fish before I dissect them and take bone samples. It’ll blow up the internet, I’m sure.”

“Ingenious.”

“I do try.”

His lips twitch uncontrollably at the corners, and he’s visibly fighting back a smirk. Stiles gives him his best innocuous _‘what?’_ look, and they both break at the same time into matching grins.

It’s Derek that breaks contact first, glancing down at his feet and coughing to clear his throat, before he levels a more serious glance at Stiles.

"Nice try, but you’re not dodging this conversation. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

_Fuck._

"It's..." He’s about to repeat his earlier statement of _‘nothing_ ’, but Derek just gives him a look, arms crossing in front of his chest in a ripple of all-too-prominent muscle. The fight leaves him in a rush of air, and he pushes himself back into his chair, burying his hands into his hair. " _Alright_. Give me a minute.”

Derek nods, moving back to give him some more space as Stiles shuffles away the mess on top of his desk, shuffling his papers into some semblance of order before sweeping the crap from the top of his work station into the trash. Stiles can hear Derek making himself comfortable on the living room sofa as he finishes switching off the variety of electronics they have plugged into the mains, and when he's done, he leans his palms forward against the desk, taking a moment to just breathe. They were doing this. Ok. He sits back down and swings around in the chair to face Derek, biting the proverbial bullet.

“It’s really nothing.” Stiles is expecting the narrowed glare that he’s met with, and he waves him off, holding up a finger to ask for him to wait. “Remember the program I applied to overseas? They contacted me."

He waits for the moment that Derek puts the pieces together, watching as his face brightens with the small smile that tweaks his lips.

“The research program. That’s -- fantastic, Stiles.”

He throws up a hand again. "Wait. It’s still a work in progress. The interview is tomorrow, and it's an interesting project – but really, that’s not really saying anything. It’s a competitive program, and I’m just one applicant of many. No need to get too excited, just yet. I’ll know within a fortnight.” He coughs to clear his throat and then clarifies. “That’s also not the problem.”

Derek shuts his mouth accordingly and waits, watching him from where he has arranged himself in a lazy splay across their crappy sofa. Stiles takes a breath, hating the way the air catches within his throat. "I’m scared. Scared that I’ll get it, and then I’ll have to leave – scared that I won’t, and I’ll have no clue what I’m doing.”

He buries his face into his hands. “It’s -- pathetic, Derek."

From this position he can’t see Derek’s expression, can’t figure out whether or not he is as disgusted as Stiles is with himself right now. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a sound – until there’s a heat against Stiles’ shins, and he looks up to see Derek’s moved closer, crouching until his knees are resting on the carpet. His expression is soft as he opens his arms and beckons Stiles closer.

“Come here.”

All it takes is for him to fall forward a little before Derek’s arms envelope him, pulling him in tightly against his chest and the smell of chocolate chips and stale cookie batter.

“First things first: it’s not pathetic.” Stiles lets out a snort, and he grips him tighter, hands smoothing up his arms until they can cradle his face, angling his head up until they can see each other. “Stiles. It’s a big decision. One with life changing implications. That will mess anyone up.”

“I know.” He burrows deeper into the warmth of his chest, fingers curling into the rough material of his work shirt, and he can feel the steady beating rhythm of his heart. Derek’s grip tightens in return, before one hand slips along his back to cover the nape of his neck, massaging at the knots of tension he finds there. It doesn’t take long before Stiles is sagging against him, his ability to hold his own weight abandoning him as exhaustion hits him full-force.

"Secondly, I don't think underpaid research assistants count as valid charity organisations. Sorry, Stiles."

Stiles thumps a fist against Derek's chest weakly, until even that becomes too much and he resettles against Derek's chest with a sigh. "I’m pretty damn tired, Derek.”

Derek huffs out a laugh at that, sending Stiles bouncing with the rise and fall of his chest, and he curves a smile into Derek’s shoulder in response. When Derek’s grip loosens and they reluctantly separate, Derek is smiling again, his face glowing with it. His hand hasn’t quite left Stiles’ shoulder yet, squeezing briefly, before Derek breaks eye contact, glancing towards their bedrooms on the opposite side of the apartment.

“Bedtime. Come on.”

His hand skates down Stiles arm, fingers slipping between his before Derek tugs at their joint hands. It takes a moment before Stiles follows, stumbling over himself with clumsy, drunken steps until they reach Derek’s door and Stiles doesn’t think twice, pushing through ahead of him and climbing into the bed.There’s a muffled sound suspiciously like a snort behind him, but Stiles ignores it in favour of ditching his shirt and sinking into the heavenly depths of Derek’s expensive mattress and high-thread count sheets.

If Derek has any further objections, he keeps them to himself as he makes short work of brushing his teeth and changing, swapping his flour-splattered work clothes for a simple tank tee and sleeping shorts. He's done by the time Stiles has himself settled, pulling back the sheets to climb in alongside him with a softly murmured _‘move over’_.

Stiles is half-asleep when he feels Derek’s warmth behind him, and he turns from the nest he has made on his side of the bed to face Derek, peering at him with a bleary, half-open eye.

“Is this okay?”

Everything about Derek looks soft, from his eyes to the sleepy tilt of his smile. “Of course.”

“Will it still be okay if we cuddle?”

Derek’s lips twist in a barely-there smirk. “No. That would be awful. The worst.”

“Smart ass.”

He raises an arm in open invitation, and barely able to hide his own smirk, Stiles burrows closer against his chest as Derek closes his arm around him. He’s enjoying the warmth and the solidity of his presence as Derek’s hand moves lightly along his side, before settling on his hip in an easy grip that is less distracting than Stiles thought it would be. He’s comfortable, and it doesn’t take long to find himself slipping away, as easy as all of his attempts at sleep earlier hadn't been.

“Thanks, Derek.”

Derek’s fingers twitch at his hip, and Stiles feels more than hears Derek’s nod as he pulls Stiles in closer.

“No problem.”

\---

Stiles is barely awake when - a little while later - Derek shifts closer, curving his body until his head rests against Stiles’ crown. He’s still for a moment, his breath a warm puff against his hairline, before he’s dipping closer, lips brushing Stiles’ temple in a half-mumbled confession.

“Sometimes I can't sleep either. _Jesus --_ mainly when I think about how much I’m going to miss you.”

Stiles has a response to that – one that involves talking, lots of it, and maybe even some hand holding – but before he can even finish the thought, he’s fallen off the precipice of consciousness and into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> come hang with me on [tumblr](http://abetaperspective.tumblr.com/)! :'D


End file.
